


All My Life

by Valentine



Series: The Meaning of Matthew [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Friendship, surprise, undergraduate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3847657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valentine/pseuds/Valentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matthew Murdock is a good strong name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All My Life

**Author's Note:**

> Edited to fix typos, the most prominent being the misspelling of Murdock. I'm actually impressed I managed that one.

Matt hate moving into a new place. New smells, noises, textures, stories screamed in thousands of details all simultaneously clamoring for attention. Worse was having a roommate. Saint Agnes Orphanage was far from quiet, but there was always the solemnity of the church to retreat to and Matt by virtue of first disability and then age usually had a single room. But somehow, despite 70% of Columbia undergrad housing consisting of single rooms Matt had been assigned a double. After weeks of being bounced around from person to person first over email then by phone the housing director had invited Matt to her office to discuss the situation.

Now Matt stood awkwardly in the housing director’s office as she loudly shuffled papers. There were two chairs in front of her desk but she didn’t invite Matt to sit, and when Matt started to speak she interrupted to say with some asperity that “that disability didn’t mean special privileges.”

“I know ma’am, but the majority of housing assignments are singles. And it would be easier adjusting to a new schedule and place without also having to adjust to a roommate at the same time.”

“But then you’d be missing out on one of the hallmarks of college life. I myself still exchange Christmas cards with my college roommate."

“Perhaps I could move into a double next year or in the spring semester?"

“No, no, no moving mid school year is far too much trouble. And we couldn't give a freshman a sophomore roommate. You'll just need to act like everyone else and room with whomever you're assigned to. Besides with your unique situation a roommate is just what you need. It'll be like having your own seeing eye dog without having to take them on potty breaks.”

She laughs, a high pitched tee hee, at her own joke and hits a few keys on her keyboard. A printer asthmatically wheezes to life and prints a single sheet of paper. The desk creaks as the director rises and grabs the page. She sticks the page in front of Matt without pausing in her monologue about roommates and college life, phrases like “fostering future working relationships, “the student community,” “and your special circumstances” dropping from her mouth, each word a scratchy drop battering Matt’s hearing. When she finally realized Matt hadn’t taken the piece of paper she pushed it roughly into Matt’s chest. One hand came up reflexively to grab the paper and the director was already moving, a hand against Matt’s shoulder practically shoving in her haste to get her office back. Matt was left standing in the hallway clutching a piece of paper with a housing assignment that was most definitely not printed in braille. 

Matt lay in bed listening for the last time to the arrythmic tapping of a branch as it struck little Justin Ayer’s window, tap, tap, tappity tap, tap. Next came the crackle of electricity as sister Shannon pulled the string to turn on the hallway light and then, click, click, a half beat, click, a beat, click click, a half beat, as her hands worked the rosary while she walked around the floor praying over the orphans’ dreams. The late summer smell of cooling pavement and warm trash wafted through the open window. The taste of the oil used to fry Friday fish and chips still clung to the roof of the mouth and even after showering remained as a film of grease on the skin. Matt knew every taste, sound, and texture for each season at Saint Agnes. It had been home for the last nine years. Finally Matt fell asleep to the familiar cadence.

You got used to places the same way you got to know people, their idiosyncrasies, their character, when something was out of place. The creeks in the stairs and the timbre of a voice become familiar. Having to learn a new place was overwhelming. Having to learn a new person, a person that couldn’t be retreated from was terrifying, but living on campus was necessary; even with an inheritance and a partial scholarship Columbia was expensive. Plus it’d certainly be more convenient than commuting. So here Matt was standing awkwardly in the doorway of room 312. A battered duffle slung over a shoulder held nearly everything Matt owned. The few precious items that belonged to Matt's father, Battlin' Jack Murdock, were tucked in a safe deposit box in a bank back in Hell's Kitchen. Matt refused to trust something irreplaceable to underneath a dorm bed.

Matt knocked against the doorframe, the soft prefabricated wood giving slightly under the motion.

“What?!” A male voice came from the corner, an annoyed but still pleasant tenor.

“Excuse me, is this room 312?”

“Yeah, who’re you looking for? Oh, uh, sorry.”

“What for?”

“You’re blind right?”

“Uh, yeah, so they tell me.”

“I hope that won’t be a problem.”

“Why would it be?”

“Are you F. Nelson?”

“Yes.”

“Uh, Matt Murdock, your roommate.”

“But you’re a girl! 

“Yes.”

“A really, really good looking one.”

“Oh, um . . . .”

“I mean not that I’m hitting on you, or that you don’t know you’re exceptionally good looking, which you might not, I mean when was the last time you looked in a mirror . . . oh god, shoot me now. I am so sorry.”

“No need to apologize, and I was nine last time I saw myself in a mirror.”

“Wait, Matt Murdock, are you, you’re not from Hell’s Kitchen are you?”

“Yeah, born and raised.”

“So am I! I heard about you when you were a kid, what you did saving that guy crossing the street.”

“Yeah, I . . . I just did what anyone would have.”

“Bullshit, you’re a hero.”

“I’m really not.”

“Come one you got your peepers knocked out saving that old dude.”

“They didn’t get knocked out.”

“Good ‘cause that would be a little freaky, but no offense.”

“Please, none taken. Uh, most people dance around me like I’m made of glass. I hate that.”

“I mean guys must love that, the whole . . . wounded beautiful duck thing. Am I right?”

“Guys who want me because I’m blind either have overwhelming white knight tendencies or they like having a helpless partner. Neither of which I find appealing.”

“That sucks. You send them my way.”

“You like guys like that?” 

“No, no, I just meant so you didn’t have to deal with them, but that sounds kinda sexist doesn’t it and ableist. God, you must hate me right now.”

“I don’t hate you, at least not yet.”

“Oh good, it usually takes at least two conversations for people to hate me.”

Matt set the duffel on the empty bed and sits down. Foggy shifts from foot to foot.

“Ok, that was a long awkward silence.”

Matt smiles, “it wasn’t that bad.”

“Anyway is Matt your real name or a nickname?”

“It’s short for Matthew, but you can call me Matty if you want.”

“Your parents really wanted a boy then.”

“Not exactly. You’ve heard of children being mixed up in hospitals?”

“Oh, shit, that happened to you?!”

No, no, the doctor mixed up two sets of parents. He told my parents they had a boy and the couple in the next room that they had a girl. My dad filled out the birth certificate and sent it in before they got it straightened out.

“That’s hilarious. No offense.”

“Again, none taken. Apparently somewhere out there is a boy named Kathryn Marie.”

“A boy named Sue!”

“No, Kathryn.”

They both burst into giggles.

I didn’t think Columbia assigned coed roommates,” said Foggy when he was able to speak again.

“They probably don’t. With my name it’s not unusual for institutions to get the gender wrong.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I like my name.”

“It does have a nice ring to it, Matt Murdock, Matthew Murdock. Ha, this is gonna be awesome!”

“What is?”

“Me as your wingman or you as my wingwoman. We’ll wing each other!”

Matt laughed again. “So you don’t want to contact the housing office and ask for a new roommate?

“Hell, no, you may laugh, but we’re going to be the greatest roommates to ever room. I know these things.”

“You know what, Foggy, I think you’re right. To rooming!” 

Matt flourished an imaginary glass and Foggy copied the gesture. 

“To rooming!”


End file.
